Awakening
by isabellthelooser
Summary: After a nearly fatal accident leaves Bella in the hospital, life turns topsy-turnvy as both she and Edward struggle to get past her marring injuries and disabilities, and in the end find themselves awakened to what's really important.
1. Chapter 1: Bad Idea

nother story. Bella/Edward. sorry if it's a little gory. inspiration from Caroline B. Cooney's book: Emergency Room.

please keep reading and review!

next chapter will be up around tommorrow or the next day (5/17 or 5/18)

thanks, isabell

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"_Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground, and miss."_

Bad Idea

I knew it was a bad idea from the start. Edward had asked me to wear my jacket and helmet; to at least wear jeans to protect my legs. And I meant to, really. But when I saw Jacob in nothing but cutoffs, it kind of slipped my mind. If he didn't have to, then why did I?

We slipped silently from Jacob's garage, pushing our bikes so as not to wake Billy who was asleep back at the house. It was a little before 11 at night. Everything was silent except the crunch of gravel under the wheels and the short breaths we both took.

As we both took one last furtive glance back at the Black's house, an image of my jacket and helmet flashed over my eyes, and I thought for one second that I should go back and get them.

I almost did.

Jacob threw a leg over his bike and kicked it to life. "Come on, Bells. Let's go."

I figured that nothing would happen, at least not with Jake there, so I let the little voice in my head die down. Who needed a padded jacket when you had a werewolf as a friend? I kicked my own bike to life and revved the engine, rising my eyebrow at Jacob.

He grinned and shot forward at the same instant I did, and soon all thoughts of precautions were behind us, and all I could think about was the power of the engine beneath me and the wind in my hair. The road flew beneath us at an insane speed; faster than even Edward had driven with me, and I loved it. Freedom. It was like flying, but safer, more grounded.

The wind whipped my face and bit at my exposed arms, reminding me once more that I should have worn more than a T-shirt.

Jacob whooped and shot ahead of me, raising both arms in the air. This in itself was hilarious, but also very outrageously dangerous. I wanted to try it.

Normally I wouldn't have even come to Jacob's, let alone to ride, but lately I'd been feeling so strange…like a bird locked in a cage. Maybe it was because I always had to be safe around Edward, because I had to be mature like him. Mostly it was because the wedding was dauntingly close and I wanted to spend just one more happy day with Jacob.

Whatever the reason, I revved my engine and shot after Jacob; passing him in nearly a heartbeat, and shot around the corner at nearly 100 miles per hour. In the farthest part of my mind I heard Jake calling out for me to slow down, but I wanted to be free; if he could do it, then why couldn't I?

I threw my arms from the handles; raising them high above my face and screaming to the heavens. Jacob's call seemed ghastly far behind, and I glanced behind me for a mere second.

I realized many things in what seemed like a millisecond.

Jacob was waving, or more appropriately, gesturing wildly at me to either stop or turn around. The look of fear on his face confused me, but as I turned I realized why in a stomach twisting second. The bike trembled beneath me, the tires squealing and popping as they tried desperately to find purchase on the hard shoulder which I was now speeding down. A smell of burnt rubber and smoke filled my nose, and I felt the bike lurch forward, throwing me over the handlebars.

There was just enough time for me to realize that I had taken many more risks than I'd meant to. Enough time to realize how fast I was going to hit the pavement. That I was wearing only a T-shirt and jeans.

The image of my padded jacket and helmet flashed over my eyes as the pavement loomed up to meet me.

And then I was out of time.


	2. Chapter 2: Burnt Rubber

^^ sorry about uploading late...completely lost my marbles. here's chap 2...please enjoy!

-isabell the looser-

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"_Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. _

_If I quit, however, it lasts forever."_

_--Lance Armstrong--_

**Burnt Rubber**

My own face was the break that slowed me down.

Vaguely, I heard my body hit the tarmac; felt it scrape along the ground pinned beneath the still moving motorcycle. Vaguely, I felt the agony that rolled through me as I lay face first on the ground beneath a white hot engine that seemed to be slowly burning away my skin; I could smell myself charring.

Vaguely, I knew that my story would be posted on the front page of every newspaper in Washington, no matter what Edward or any of them did, and it would show only a helpless girl beneath a smoking motorbike; just another road accident that caused roundabout routes and traffic jams.

Vaguely, somewhere in the farthest reaches of my mind, I heard Jacob crying out to me.

At first he tried to get me free; trying to lift the motorcycle off of me, and then trying to pull me from underneath. Neither worked. The bike it seemed, had imbedded itself in the ground as it twisted and turned, trying to stay upright, and now held my legs prisoner; pinned between heavy metal and sandy pavement. When Jacob tried to heave it off me it caused unexplainable agony in my legs, and he couldn't move it.

I was conscious the entire time.

Jacob, having given up hope, sat beside me on the hot tarmac; stretching himself out beside me and promising that everything would be alright. He didn't touch me.

The ambulance arrived in an explosion of red lights and earsplitting sirens. I tried to breathe slowly to calm myself, but something filled my mouth and I could hardly breathe or talk. The minute the EMTs saw me they grimaced and exchanged glances.

As more and more heavy set men gathered around me I became more and more anxious; how were they going to get me out?!

Three men each grabbed part of the bike, ignoring Jacob's wild yelling, and heaved it upwards. I heard nothing except the scraping of the bike as it began to rise. I opened my mouth to scream, or thought I did, but nothing came out.

Someone shouted encouragement, and another exclaimed: "It's working!" Somewhere in the background I heard Jacob yelling.

"You're hurting her!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jake fighting his way forward, fists raised. "Stop it! Can't you see it's hurting her?!"

A policeman shoved him back. "Son, we're doing all we can. They've got to get her out somehow."

_Why not in pieces,_ I thought as the men heaved, _You could cut me up, store in a little box to take to the hospital, and then put me back together again like Humpty-Dumpty._

After what seemed like hours they hauled the bike off me and exchanged more glances. They flipped me over and laid me on a backboard on a narrow stretcher. Cervical collars were put around my neck, forcing me to lay still. I was lifted slowly into the ambulance; automatic floor clamps locking the wheels in place.

The moment I was in, an EMT sat beside me and put one of those dental tubes (only much much bigger) in my mouth and began sucking crap out. The door slammed shut, the sirens flicked on, and the ambulance shuddered to a start.

I flinched and the EMT smiled down at me. "It's okay, sweetheart. Everything's going to be alright." I knew it wasn't.

"What's in her mouth?" asked a second EMT, sitting down on the other side and pulling out a clipboard.

The other shrugged. "Blood. Gravel. Teeth."

I convulsed and the EMT glared at the second, shaking his head.

I couldn't talk with the tube in my mouth, and I could only see what lay right in front of me, and most of that was just blurry faces and huge hands moving across my body. I wished I could see what they were doing.

The ambulance turned beneath us, and I had a strange sense of vertigo as the world spun.

They started cutting off my clothes.

Scissors cut through my jeans and underpants.

Was I going to be naked in front of these strangers? One of whom was a man!

I wanted desperately to yell at them to stop, that my legs were fine, that I didn't want my jeans taken off, oh please no!

Nothing seemed to be left of my shirt, and the tiny bits they cut from my feet didn't seem to be enough shoe. Exposed in the air, the road burns seemed to ignite. Something cool and slimy covered the agonizing burn where the exhaust pipe had touched my leg, and I moaned slightly at the pain.

The EMT said, "It's a Jell-Pac. It'll cool off the burn and make it clean so the doctors can look at it."

Another was placed on my shoulder, and the scream that built up inside was almost more painful. Almost.

"How much oxygen you giving her?"

"Fifteen liters…think that's too high?"

"That's what I would give her."

None of what the EMTs said made any sense until the woman leaned over and said gently, "We're going to pour water on you, sweetheart. You've got a lot of junk stuck to you and we've got to get it off. Hold on, this is going to sting."

It stung…bad.

"You're going to feel a sting," the other said, "I'm starting an IV in your left hand."

I felt nothing, and that was almost worst than the pain.

"She's got a wallet," said the first EMT, "Driver's License says this is Isabella Swan. Eighteen."

_Bella,_ I wanted to correct, but I still couldn't talk.

"We're at the ER!" called the driver.

A mad scrambling began around me, and I couldn't make any sense of it. Everything seemed to blur together into one giant mass of white. I vaguely felt a sheet being laid over me, and then I was being lifted out into the cool night air, and I closed my eyes as the pain engulfed me.

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please review!!! tell me how you liked it, or not. let me know if i'm doing okay! any pointers on story plot would be greatly appreciated!

thanks, isabell the looser


	3. Chapter 3: Fault Line

third chap is up! Edward POV just this once. sorry for any confusion or if it seems a bit disconnected or rushed. it's 12:11 pm here, and i'm running on none cafinated Orange Soda...not good....hahahahahahahha!! ...see? not good...

love you guys who have faved, alerted, or reviewed...

-isabell the looserrrrrrrrrrrr (agg...stupid keyyyyyyyy)

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"_Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion to death."_

_--Coco Chanel--_

**Fault Line**

I was reading in my room when I first heard the commotion downstairs, but I didn't pay it any mind; probably just Rosalie having another row with Alice, like usual. I sighed and returned to my book, wishing Bella was here to talk to. It always got so dull without her here, and I constantly had a nagging feeling that something had gone wrong…what if something had?

_No._ I fought the thought back with a resigned sigh. _Jacob's with her, he'll look after her._

Suddenly the door burst open and Alice appeared, flustered, from the other side. I sat up and dropped the book to the floor, no longer interested in fictional characters. "Alice, what…"

Her thoughts flashed through to me with lightning speed and intensity, though she spoke the words at the same time. "Bella's been injured, Edward. Badly. She's on her way to the hospital."

I had no idea what expression betrayed me, but I could only guess it was fear. "How…What? When?!"

Alice grabbed my arm and towed me to the doorway, continuing. "She got in a motorcycle accident with Jacob. She's being rushed to the ER as we speak. Carlisle's ready to leave and take care of it."

I have no memory of what happened next; maybe nothing. I vaguely remember moving as if in a dream; knocking first Rosalie, then Emmett out of the way as I charged outside. The rest is a jumble of flashing lights and distorted voices. _My Bella…motorcycle accident…Jacob with her…my fault…my fault…my fault…_

They rushed Bella past me on a gurney. Surrounded by a jumble of EMTs, nurses with machinery, doctors arguing over procedures, curious bystanders, and nurse's aides hefting IV feeds over their heads to let gravity do its job, I could not get a good look at her; she was also covered by sheets.

If I could have had a heart attack, I would have then.

"Come on, Son." Carlisle gripped my arm and led the way to the ER, following the flood of personnel.

I was shoed into a corner by a heart monitoring machine and told to stay out of the way, but I only had eyes for the girl lying beneath the blood-covered sheets; my Bella.

Nurses buzzed around; whisking away the gory sheets, attaching IVs and heart monitor cables to Bella. EMTs hefted Bella's lifeless form from the saturated gurney onto another clean table and traded information. Amid all of this, Carlisle appeared by Bella's side and immediately called in for some oxygen.

I stared at Bella, my sweet, wonderful, breakable Bella and couldn't pretend to breath. Her face; coated in drying blood and gravel seemed oddly disfigured and shaped, and there was little left of her left ear. Horrible burns blistered along her arms and legs, and one huge bubbling spot covered her chest from the left shoulder, across her neck, to the right hip. _Not my Bella._

As I watched, her eyes flickered open, and she glanced warily about her as if she'd merely fallen asleep. Her blistered eyelids blinked, taking in what the doctors and nurses were doing. Her gaze travelled to me, leaning over her.

"Eee…" her lip twisted into a strange shape, the corner sagging down to touch her chin as she fought to say my name.

"Ssh," I told her, wanting desperately to touch her, but not wanting to cause more pain. "Everything's alright. Don't speak. I'm right here."

A nurse brusquely shoved me aside. "Excuse me." Another two stood at the other side of Bella, and began to scrub at her fresh wounds with bristly brushes.

Bella let out a scream, though it was more like the dying call of a wounded animal. Her body convulsed away from the pain, but they merely scrubbed harder. I leapt forward, only to be shoved back by Carlisle.

_They have to get the dead skin and gravel off before we can do anything for her._

I let him push me back, my eyes locked on Bella's convulsing form. She simply laid there, her neck and feet touching the table as her middle strained against the brushes and hands that held her down, her mouth gaping open but no sounds coming out. Her head rolled to the side and her eyes trained on me, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Take her to the AP scan, find some grafts!" called Carlisle, and she was suddenly whisked away from me, into another room, where I could only imagine what horrors lay in store for her.


	4. Chapter 4: Deathly Slumber

hey guys, sorry I'm just getting around to updating again. i'm going to try to get a few more chaps up for you guys by the end of this week, don't hate me if i don't though, i think i might be getting sick which is really bad for me cause it takes a long for me to recover, so no flames please.

enjoy. it's kinda short, but it kind of tells how Bella is feeling. next chap up soon i hope. please review!

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"_I can't stand being awake, the pain is too much."_

**Deathly Slumber**

I drift through sleep; such painless and pleasant sleep it is. Nothing can go amiss in this endless ocean of warmth and light. Such dreams I have; vivid, colorful, free from the agony that accompanies my waking hours.

Hours pass, maybe just minutes. Time has no mark here, in this sanctuary, it is like the tides; ebbing, flowing, but never ending. Nothing worries me here, no pain, no suffering, free. I could stay here forever, just floating in this endless sea of contentment.

The only thing that is missing is my angel. Where is he? Where's Jacob? I hate to think of them in pain, especially Edward. Oh god, what have I done? How much are they suffering on my behalf? Please God, spare them. Save them from this endless pain I feel. Take me and leave them to float in this bliss of ease.

Please, take me instead.

Please, God.

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please review. and keep reading, please. it'll get somewhere soon, i promise.

-isabellthelooser


	5. Chapter 5: It's Not Easy

yay! another chapter finally. sorry it's been so long guys. but please read, enjoy, and review. xD review even if you don't enjoy.

from Miss Bella's pov.

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"_There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. _

_They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love."_

_-Washington Irving—_

**It's Not Easy**

Someone is crying. Their body shakes against me, soft whimpers issuing close by. Why is this person crying? They should not be sad. I am awake now, and they can return to the painless world of sleep.

There is a heaviness pressing into me, like a lead blanket. No, just a regular blanket. Why do I feel so heavy then? My body is made of lead; I cannot move. Why can't I? Am I really awake, or merely dreaming?

Beeping. What's beeping? A machine? It seems to be following a specific pattern. Beep, beep, beep. Is that my heartbeat? Why does it sound so slow? Does it need to wake up too?

The person continues to cry, shaking the bed I lay on. Why do they cry? It sends a pang through my heart to hear such painful sobs. If nothing else, I have to soothe them.

"Bella…" a voice moans, an agonized voice, muffled somehow.

My heart seizes at the pain in their voice. The machine responds, beeping loudly. I have to help them.

I search deep inside of me for some remainder of strength, some thread of energy hidden away in my lead body. With great difficulty, I blink open my eyes.

The world swirls before me; bright, luminous, lights and colors spinning. It's blinding. My eyes blink, and the lights above where I lay come into focus. Another blink and the ceiling solidifies. One half of the room is still hazy; the left side. Why is that?

I close my eyes, open them again; still hazy. Maybe my eye's partially asleep still.

I focus on the person crying. By rolling my eyes down, I can make out the top of their head; disheveled bronze hair, shaking. Hands clench fistfuls of my blanket; whimpers come from deep inside this person.

They moan my name again, and I recognize the voice. Of course.

His pain rips through me; bringing tears to my own eyes. I fight to move, to make some sort of noise. My body is numb, my mouth feels flimsy like tissue paper. What's wrong with me? Even my breathing seems labored. Why can't I move? Why can't I shift my hand to cup his cheek, square my shoulders and take on his pain as my own? Why is everything so confusing?

The tears gather behind my burning eyes, but won't spill over. They just hang there, stuck in the balance, worse than no tears at all. I fight desperately to move, to shift myself, to draw his attention to me, but I am chained to the bed by my own body's heaviness. Somehow, though, I manage to tilt my head to the side, where it dangles, as if by a wire, lolling against my shoulder, a dead weight.

That's when the pain hits me. Jabs of pain that shoot up my spine, the muscles and nerves screaming all the way from the nape of my neck to my tail bone. Again I open my mouth to yell, to whisper, to make any noise. Again: nothing. And that's when I really start to panic. Am I to remain trapped here? Hidden away inside my body?

In the background, something is beeping. An alarm? No, it's my heart monitor. If I squint I can just make it out at the end of the bed, the line that is my heart beat going erratic. I breathe heavily, making it beep louder, faster. This is the only noise I can make, aided by a machine, but it is enough. He lifts his head.

If I wanted to do anything before, it is now nonexistent. Seeing him like this, a slight flush to his marble cheeks, hair tousled, eyes haunted. It is the worst sort of hell, worse than the one that claims my body. All I want is to speak, to tell him that I'm all right, but I can't. Am I to be deprived of that right too?

His eyes fix on mine, open finally, and I power all my energy there, to my eyes, to convey what I can't with words. I'm all right! Hope seems to flood his eyes, and his shoulders relax just a fraction, but it is enough. Tears flood my eyes again, and I know he can see them, welling up against my pupils, still not falling. Kiss me, I want to say, please, I need you to hold me, I need you to say something, anything, please.

He doesn't move though, doesn't touch me. Just stares at me for the longest time, long enough for my heart beat to calm back down. Then, slowly, he reaches out his hand as if to cup my face, just as I want him to, but he pulls back at the last second, wincing. The pain covers his face again. _Say something!_ I scream silently. His still upraised hand moves toward me again, then past, to touch the call button on the wall.

A nurse bustles in so quickly that I wonder if she was standing outside the door, just waiting. She's tall and slim, with light brown hair that falls down in a cascading ponytail at the nape of her neck. She's pretty, maybe even beautiful. Her eyes are tired though, with bags underneath them. It must be night time.

"Oh," she says, smiling down at me past Edward. "Look who's finally awake. How are you feeling, Bella?"

My shocked eyes move to Edward, and his face softens ever so slightly. Of course, of course he would tell her my name, what I like to be called. I turn my eyes back to the nurse, but she's already moved on, busying herself with checking the machines dotting the room. She slips in and out of focus as she passes to my left side, only her brilliant white clothing making her vaguely visible.

"Well, all of your vitals seem…normal." She pauses to check her clipboard, moving automatically to my right side, so that I can see her. "Considering what happened - your ordeal - I'd say you're doing fine." Again she flashes me a smile. "I'm afraid there's not much more I can do for you right now. I wish there was. Oh-" she leans forward and resettles my head straight on the pillow, releasing the ache in my neck but sending a single sharp stab up my spine at the motion. I wince, and Edward's eyes zero in on me, tightening. "There," she adds, "that's more comfortable, isn't it?"

_Yes, _I want to snap, _It's more comfortable, but now I can't see._

"My name's Sarah, by the way. Call me if you need me, and I'll be right in." And she bustles out, probably to go ask another patient some rhetorical questions.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Edward is leaning over me, his eyes frantic. His hands waver over me but don't connect, as if there is some force field there, blocking him. "Bella," he whispers, "What is it? What hurts? What can I do?"

He says my name, and finally, finally the tears fall. Just three. "Edward," I whisper back, but all that comes out is mush. A jumbled mix of syllables and letters, sloshed together and then thrown out in the air. Undistinguishable. But he can understand me.

"Yes, I'm here."

"Edward," I try again, to speak normally, and fail. "What-what happened? What's wrong with me?"

I see the pain tighten in his eyes, or maybe his eyes tighten against the pain. He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, and perches on the side of my bed, careful not to jostle me; too careful.

"Bella," he whispers, "don't you remember the crash? You were on a-a motorcycle with Jacob. He said you were going too fast…and you were thrown over the bars."

_Yes, that's right. I was thrown over the bars…I remember hitting the road. _

He continues without looking at me. "The bike landed on top of you, but Jacob couldn't get it off you. It took five paramedics to finally lift it…and they brought you here. They had to put you to sleep for a while. The drugs are starting to wear off."

It comes back in vague little pictures in my head, short flashes of clarity. A bike, flying over the handlebars, Jake's screaming for me to just hold on a bit longer, the heat of the exhaust against my exposed legs, the feeling of my face pressed against the asphalt, my own scream as they peeled the bike off of me, poured water over my marred body, scrubbed at my skin with nail-brushes. Yes, I remember.

"What's wrong with me?" I whisper, my voice catching.

"Bella," Edward leans toward me, his eyes pleading. "listen to me, okay? Not everything's for sure, there are still some things-"

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?"

"Bella," his eyes turn worried, his hands hovering inches from my body. "You need to calm down, okay? Calm down, sweetheart-"

"What's happened? What's wrong with me?" I pause to swallow, "Edward?"

He sighs, reaching for me, then freezing with his fingers just a fraction from my face. I close my eyes, waiting for his reassuring touch, but it doesn't come. "Bella," his voice is soft, trying to be soothing. "Just let me explain-"

"Why won't you touch me?" I slowly open my eyes, and his face is right there. "Edward…WHY WON'T YOU TOUCH ME?"

He winces, closes his eyes, runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm not sure-it might upset-your recovery-maybe I should-"

"Edward," my eyes are pleading. "Please. Just tell me. I deserve to know."

He sighs, a huge gust of air, as if he's been holding his breathe for hours, and opens his eyes. "I know. So…I'm going to tell you…now…" To my surprise, he stands, moving away from me, circling around the bed to my left side; my bad side.

"Edward-what?"

"Bella," he whispers, "What can you see? Can you see me?"

I try, I really try to focus my eye, but it just won't. "It's all blurry on that side."

"When you flew off the bike, you landed on the left side of your face. Your momentum carried you nearly 30 feet down the road and the asphalt…damaged your face." I hear the clicking of his shoes on the ground as he moves back around the bed, where he comes into view. "There's some chunks missing from your face - nose, cheek, a bit of your ear, some of your lip and jaw."

Unconsciously, my now awake hand moves to touch my face, to feel the gauze and bandage wrapped precariously across the left half. "Chunks…missing?" The area beneath feels bumpy and uneven.

"There's more." Edward perches next to me again, reaching out and taking my hand gingerly, replacing it back at my side. "You suffered some really bad road rashes and burns."

It is then that I notice that my hands too, and arms and one shoulder, are covered with gauze too, wrapped up like mummies.

"They gave you skin grafts…but it's going to be a while before it's…fully healed. You've got a big burn across your chest and hip, and some very bad ones on your legs."

I can feel it then, the tingling across my middle, up my side, across my arms and shoulders. Burns. I've got someone else's skin growing on me, healing me. What really worries me though, is that I can't feel my legs. The rest of my body I can feel; the aches and bruises and burns, but not my legs. I try to sit up, but only manage a couple of inches before I sink back down against the pillows. "I can't-I can't feel my legs…"

Edward's eyes turn sad, very sad, and he takes my hand again, surprising me, even though I can't feel anything through the bandages. "Bella…they think you may have broken part of your spine."

"Broken…my…spine?" The words are too foreign. They can't be true.

"They think you might be paralyzed…they're almost sure…Carlisle checked himself…you're paralyzed from the waist down."

The words rush over me, flow through my hollow ears, attack my fragile, confused brain. "What…?" I blink, glance down, gaze upon the lumps of coal that my legs have become. I gaze at them, glare at them, stare, will them to move. But there is nothing. No feeling.

Something breaks inside of me.

The tears I willed to come now swamp me. I try to force them back, but they pour down unbidden. I can hear Edward in the back of my mind trying to calm me, but I am beyond placating.

"Shut up!" I scream at him. "How do you expect me to be calm? I can't MOVE MY LEGS!"

I flail my arms, push myself up on my elbows, attempt to get up, but my numb, stupid, useless legs won't allow me to.

Edward leans over me, eyes beyond sadness. He grabs my chin and won't release me, forcing my to lock gazes with him. Staring into his warm amber eyes, I feel my body slowly relax and slump back onto the bed. I can feel the pain now. All the pins and needles of pain where I've reopened burns and torn my new skin. The tears flow again, slower and softer now, but even more painful.

"Edward…" I whimper through my deadened lips.

"Shh…" he whispers.

"Edward…" I try again. "I so…so sorry."

"I know," he whispers. "Now, shush. Relax."

"Okay…" I whisper.

The door creaks open and Sarah the nurse bustles back in. "You rang?" she says, glancing between us.

Edward turns away from me for a split second to answer. "Yes, I think Bella could do with some more sedatives." He turns back to me as Nurse Sarah nods and readies a syringe. "I'm sorry," he whispers to me.

I just look into his eyes, those warm amber eyes, and nod my head. In truth I'd rather be asleep, where I can dream about running, or speaking normally, or being able to see in both directions. I close my eyes and wait for the sedative to take affect.

Sometimes sleep is easier.

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sorry about the length, I'm still getting back into the rhythm. hopefully hear from you guys again soon, when you review this chapter. ;)

another chap up soon? at least for one of my stories. xD


	6. Chapter 6: Nevermore

Sorry, again, for such a long delay in updating. I've been very busy with classes (yada yada yada) and everything, so sorry again. I know I say this every time, but I hope to at least update one of my stories every couple of weeks. so yay! that's better than one every 3 months. xD

this chapter was inspired by The Raven (epic poem) by Edgar Allen Poe -he's my idol! xD

another from Bella's pov, hopefully the next will be from Eddy's or something. let me know what you think.

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_"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."_

_-Edgar Allan Poe_

**Nevermore**

Someone once told me that there are times in your life when you think you may have lost yourself. When something happens that changes you forever, and you can't remember how you once were. They told me that everyone feels this way sometimes, but that the feeling will always, always, eventually go away.

I've lost myself.

My mind is endlessly wandering away from me, and I find that I lose minutes and hours of my life. I have no consciousness in these moments - there is simply nothing; a blank, black, empty hole in my memory that I will never recover.

It is in these moments of sweet release that I finally escape the ever-present pain - the pain that pins my consciousness to the bed, so that even in sleep I cannot find respite.

My body is missing. Most of it is numb to me - not painless, just gone; simply and utterly. My legs don't exist, nor my hands or my arms or my face. The only thing I can feel is my chest - alive with flames. Sometimes I can still feel the heat of the bike pressing down on me, and I scramble blinding at the bandages, desperate to stop the burning. In my lucid moments, I worry about the missing parts of my body; wonder if they are there at all, and what the numbness means.

Days pass, maybe even weeks, for I have no way to count the time except by the distribution of pain medication which never seems to help. Doctors come and go as they please, though my most frequent visitor is Carlisle - always with a smile. They tell me things; long lists of huge words that mean nothing to me. I nod my head numbly, not comprehending anything, and wait for Edward to lean in close and explain. Nurses hover continuously around my room, popping up whenever I finally manage to fall asleep, ready to whisk me away to another X-ray or to give me another round of worthless pills.

The tests are unending and painful. I have three rounds of X-rays, a CAT-scan or two, and numerous others that take hours and hours and usually end up giving the doctors more questions, rather than answers. I complain at first, but after a while, I simply obey. I let them cart me from room to room, machine to machine, let them poke and prod me because I know that I am powerless in this state - immobilized and rendered speechless by my dead-weight body.

One day they tell me that this is the end - no more tests after this; just one more. A nurse comes and slowly unwraps the soiled bandages from my hands and arms. I am told to look away and close my eyes and tell her if I feel anything. I wait, and wait, and wait. Nothing. I figure it's a joke.

"Hurry up and poke me," I say.

Edward and the nurse exchange a glance and I turn around. As I watch, the nurse presses the point of a needle into my palm, my wrist, the end of my index finger. I watch it, I look at my hand, and I know I should feel it, but I don't. The needle moves upwards, pressing into my forearm, the crease in my elbow, up higher and then…

"Ow!"

The nurse writes a note on her clipboard, shaking her head sadly. Edward carefully shifts me into a more comfortable position, looking morose. It's official: I have no feeling in my hands or lower arms.

I look away as she re-bandages my hands and arms. I don't want to see what I can't feel.

Another few days pass, and then finally Carlisle returns to my bedside. He looks grave as he takes a seat. Without looking at me, he reads off a list from his clipboard; this time is it full of words I understand.

Damaged nerves in hands, arms, and chest area. Broken spine - paralyzation from the waist down. Severely damaged face - lip, cheek, chin, and part of the nose missing. Five teeth knocked out. Head trauma.

The list goes on and on but I tune it out. I don't want to know the degree of damage done to my jaw; I don't want to know that I will never walk again. I don't want to know that I am like Humpty-Dumpty - they will try to fix me, but I know I will never be the way I was.

I fade into that twilight zone between sleep and consciousness. I can feel my wandering mind pulling me under the blanket of peace that only the utter consciousness can bring. Before I can disappear completely, I feel Edward's tentative hand on my shoulder, shaking me ever-so-slightly.

"Bella, you need to hear this."

I blink and refocus my eyes on Carlisle's saddened face. It takes a lot of concentration, but I force my brain to pay attention and comprehend. That's when I get the worst news. Another test - a surgery, to be exact. Reconstructive surgery, to fix my gaping hole of a face.

"You don't have to go through with it, Bella, if you don't want to," Edward adds when his father is finished.

I nod. "Okay…" But what do I say? Yes, I want someone to go in and try to put my face back together with someone else's bone and flesh? No, I want to remain looking like this; a half-decomposing carcass?

Carlisle leans forward, his eyes earnest. "It will be tough surgery, Bella. It may not even work. We won't know how much will need to be done until we get in there." I cringe at that, and he pauses for a moment, choosing his next words more carefully. "I don't want to force your hand or try to make your decision for you, Bella, but if we don't do this surgery…well, there would be many complications."

"Complications?" I hear myself as if from outside my body, like a separate being, yelling at Carlisle. "How could my life be more complicated? I can hardly move, I can barely talk or see, I've got no feeling in my arms, my body is covered in gauze, and my fucking legs don't work!"

Silence follows my outburst, and Carlisle blinks in surprise, looking at Edward.

I hear Edward's voice trying to placate me. "We understand, Bella, trust me, but this could make it so much worse-"

"What could be worse than not being able walk? Huh? What? What could possible be worse than being stuck in a bed all day, not being able to move?" I stop myself from continuing by biting my lip. I've already said too much, I've hurt them both with my outburst. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting my taut muscles calm.

"Complications like what?" I ask.

Carlisle hesitates for a moment, then tells me in a soft voice. "Slurred or severely impaired speech, respiratory problems, eating and drinking difficulties, eye-sight deficiency…"

"Fine," I cut in. I don't want to hear any more. "Okay, I'll do it."

Edward leans closer to me. "Bella, you don't have to-"

"No, I want it." I turn to Carlisle. "What do I have to do?"

"All you have to do is sleep. We'll sedate you, and then the rest is us."

"Okay."

The surgery happens the next day, or, at least, they sedate me the next day. Moments after the needle slides in my skin, I'm out, my vision fading to a blur and then going black. The next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes to the familiar hospital room. Edward hovers, worried, and rings for the nurse immediately.

The pain is immense. The right side of my face feels as if it's on fire - the flames burning beneath the skin. I can't move my lips to speak, or turn my head without pain shooting up into my forehead and down my neck. When I cry, the tears are hot and sticky and even Edward's cool hands on my face bring no relief.

The nurse gives me heavy pain medication that leaves me in a semi-conscious state. The fire still rages beneath my skin, but I am unable to tell anyone. My body becomes jell-o and I lay with drooping eyelids, trying to ignore the agony.

I run a 103 degree fever for five days. The doctors worry that my face is infected, that they may have to go back in and cleanse the area, which is potentially dangerous. I want to tell them it's not an infection, that it's a fire. I want to beg, plead, scream at them that my face is burning and they have to put it out or I'll die. My eyes water from the heat of my own body and Edward thinks I'm crying. More pain meds work their imprisoning magic and I lay beneath the bonfire for two more days, until my fever finally breaks.

Carlisle checks my new face when the nurses change the bandages. He smiles as he places new gauze over the tight, hot flesh and winks at me.

The surgery is a success so far. Everything is healing nicely. The doctors and nurses tell me that I'm lucky, that my face looks good so far.

As for me, I wonder if the pain will ever leave. I wonder if I will ever be able to see clearly through both eyes, or eat solid food. I wonder if I will ever feel anything except the fire.

And as I lay there, wrapped in gauze and new layers of flesh, the lines of a poem slip into my wandering mind. It is a poem I have only ever read once, but still, somehow the words come back to me in this single lucid moment.

"_Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,_

_Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;_

_But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,_

…_Merely this and nothing more._

_Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.'"_

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I don't know if the poem seems relevant to any one else, but it seemed relevant to me. xD anyways, I just love this poem, so I wanted some of it in there. sorry if I'm a dork.

let me know what you liked or disliked. REVIEW! pretty please!

thanks for everything so far.

-isabellthelooser


	7. Chapter 7: Burning Bright

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! another chapter! sorry it's been so long - insert a million excuses here - but I've actually been working on this chap for a few weeks, so it had better be good...maybe?

from Mr. Edward Cullen's POV just because I was tired of Bella.

read, love, and review please! any ideas or critiques are appreciated!

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"A man may fail many times, but he isn't a failure until he begins to blame somebody else."

-John Burroughs

**Burning Bright**

Bella screams.

She thrashes her arms, cries, and moans.

The nurses try to hold her down - pin her arms so she won't hurt herself - but she merely fights back.

Doctors hover, exchanging remarks, frowning and scratching their balding heads. There shouldn't be any pain, they say. The worst is over.

Bella screams, and the sound stabs at that little part of me - deep inside - that always threatens to break when Bella's in pain. She screams, and thrashes, and cries, and at last, I snap.

"Get AWAY from her!" I yell at the nurses, doing my best not to rip their throats out. They shrink back, aware in a subconscious way of how much danger they are in. "GET OUT!" I yell at the doctors, and they too shrink and scamper out the door, knowing they're useless anyways. I slam the door behind them, making the room quake. I cling to the doorknob for a moment, suddenly exhausted by the outburst of fury. Then Bella screams and the strength returns to my body and I right myself, turning to comfort her. This is my job, this is my duty. To save Bella when she can't save herself.

Her fingers have turned to claws - tenacious and angry - and she scratches at her face like a tortured beast seeking relief. She scrambles at the bandages, rips them off, then tears at her face, screaming and screaming and screaming. "Make it stop!" she screams. "Make it STOP!"

In an instant I'm at her side, grabbing her arm, and pulling her hand away from her face. She tries to fight me - I can sense the resistance in her arms - but she is no match for me. "Bella," I whisper, "stop. You have to stop - you're hurting yourself."

She reaches up with her free hand and scratches at the already torn flesh, ignoring my plea. "PLEASE! Make it STOP!"

I grab her other wrist and pull her arms down to her sides, pinning her there gently, where she can't hurt herself. Her head writhes back and forth, the only part of her able to move, and she screams louder. "Bella, Bella." I lean closer, following the thrashing of her head. "Bella, please, calm down."

She ignores me, crying now, sobbing. Her mouth opens to scream, but no sound comes out, and that is almost worse. She shakes her head: no, no, no...

I perch on the edge of the bed, leaning down over her, pressing my body against her writhing one. I lay my forehead against hers, speaking softly, assuringly. "Bella, Bella. Please. Please, love, you're hurting yourself. You're hurting yourself."

"It hurts so much!" she yells, her eyes scrunched up against the pain. "It BURNS!"

I shake my head. "Bella, the doctors say it shouldn't hurt. Bella, it shouldn't hurt."

And just like that, she's screaming again, this time at me. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW MUCH PAIN I'M IN, EDWARD CULLEN!"

Up close, my eyes flicker to her torn face, and I notice for the first time that maybe something is really wrong. Pus, brilliant green against the blood, seeps from the gauges her nails have made in her skin. Angry, festering flesh - red against the pale tone of her healthy skin - reveals the unhealed aspect of the infection the doctors thought she'd fended off. "Oh god," I mutter. "Oh god, oh god." I'm no doctor, but even I know that something is wrong.

My hand instinctively reaches for the nurses' call bell.

"No," Bella mutters. "No..."

"Ssh," I tell her, leaning close again, gazing into her eyes. "I'm just getting Carlisle. No nurses, okay? Just Carlisle." I stare into her eyes and try not to get lost in them, trying to power all my strength into her. "Carlisle is coming," I tell her. "Carlisle will know what to do."

Carlisle takes one look at Bella and immediately calls for a nurse. He rattles off a list of long medical terms that I don't care enough to listen to. Once the nurse is gone again, he leans over Bella, wincing as he examines her torn flesh. Bella flinches as he gently probes her cheek.

"What's wrong?" I ask him. "What's the matter with her? Is she going to be okay? What can I do?" I gaze up at my adopted father, needing him to tell me that everything will be alright.

He ignores me, turning to glance over his shoulder at the nurse I didn't notice come in. "You! Why was this not noted on her chart?"

The nurse shrugs, bewildered.

"Surely someone noticed this!"

Again a shrug.

Carlisle turns away from her again, muttering a string of explatives - something I've never heard him do before.

"Carlisle," I whisper. "Carlisle...Father!"

He turns to look at me.

I glance from him to Bella and back again. "Is she going to be okay?"

Carlisle fixes me with his calming gaze, but for once I don't find it calming in the least. His eyes are sad and uncertain, and it terrifies me. "I don't know," he whispers.

They take Bella away from me again. They strap her to a gurney and wheel her away before I even have time to tell her I love her. Carlisle hurries after her, promising to do everything in his power to help her. I want to believe him, I _need_ to believe him, but somehow I just don't think it'll be enough. Surely fate has separated us enough times to finally get it right; to figure out how to finally, competely and utterly, take her from me for ever.

When she's gone, I feel the emptiness fill me. Worse than when I left her, there is no part of me that is left. This time, I cannot simply come back and find her waiting for me. I cannot simply run in and save her from the monsters. This is something I cannot beat. This is somewhere I cannot go.

So I wait. I wait for the nurse to come and tell me she's out of surgery. I wait for Carlisle to come and tell me she's dead. I wait for the inevitable. I wait for the unthinkable. And as I wait, I think. Why did I let her go that day? Why did I allow her to visit that dog, even when I knew it wasn't safe? Why didn't I shake my head, say no, hold her in my arms and never let her go? Why did she get on that bike, anyways? Why didn't she wear her helmet, at least? Why did the dog let her go?

The dog.

Of course, why didn't I think of it before. Of course. It's his fault. It's his fault that all this is happening. He built the bloody bike in the first place, and then he taught her how to ride it. He promised he would keep her safe, but he didn't. It's all his fault.

My body fills with rage. In a single moment, I become a raving lunatic, a bloody-thirsty animal, a monster. And it feels so good. Just like that, I need to kill something. I need to punch something, beat something, murder something in cold blood. I need to kill that bloody DOG!

But no. I can't. I have to stay here. I have to take care of Bella. I have to wait and take care of her. There will be time enough to kill the dog.

It is hours later that someone finally comes to tell me the news. Carlisle walks into the room and closes the door softly behind him. His face is vacant and exhausted.

"Well?" I ask him. "Is she alright?"

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he nods. "Yes, I think she's going to be okay. She's going to be on high alert, and there may be some scarring, but yes...I think the worst is over."

Relief.

They wheel her back in a little while later. Her body is limp, unconscious, and her face is newly coated in bandages. I lean over her once the nurses are gone. I lay my forehead against hers and close my eyes, letting the relief fill me. I can feel the heat rising from her face like a hot stove-burner. "Bella," I whisper. "My sweet, breakable, vulnerable Bella."

She moans softly at her name, her head shifting slightly. They said the anesthesia would wear off in a while.

I kiss her forehead and push myself upright. I perch on the edge of the bed and look over at her once more. God, she's so vulnerable. So weak. I love her so much. The familiar feeling of tears behind my eyes encroaches on me, but like usual they can't spill over. What a curse: not being able to cry for someone you love. God. How could I even had _considered_ hurting Jacob? That would only hurt her too. God, will it ever end? This endless triangle of love and pain? I find myself hunched over, my face buried in my hands. Do people always feel like this? So utterly helpless? So devastated? I feel like I've lost myself.

The door squeaks.

My head shoots up, my eyes locking on but not comprehending who the figure standing in the doorway is.

His eyes lock on mine; black and hardened against the pain. "I should've known you'd be here."

I stare at him, cocking my head to the side. Who is this? Then his scent hits me. The monster growls in the bottom of my stomach. "What are you doing here, _dog_?"

His eyes tightened and his mouth smooths into a firm line on his face. "I didn't come here to fight."

"Then why **did** you come here?" I growl. Bella shifts on the bed, moaning softly.

He hears and takes a step forward, trying to see around me. "Is she alright?"

I shift myself to hide her from his gaze. "If you can call almost dead, alright."

Jacob sighs. "What is your problem, man? I just want to know if she's okay."

"My problem?" I yell. I push myself up from the bed, jostling Bella who groans, and stride toward him. "What's my PROBLEM?"

There's a look of sudden terror on Jacob's face as I approach him, then a slight sliver of reciprocated anger, but then, finally, his eyes find Bella's mutilated face, and he wilts.

Fire. That's what it is. Burning bright within me. Enormous, glowing, engulfing flames erupt within me. I have never been this angry before. In half a second's time I have the dog by the collar of his shirt and I've shoved him up against the wall. "YOU are my problem!" I yell in his face. "DON'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"

Jacob doesn't look away from Bella; his eyes are sad and full of pain. "Yes...I see..." And then, as easily as breathing, he blinks and just like that, a tear falls down his cheek.

It's too much.

"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HER! YOU NEARLY **DID**!"

"Huh...?" Bella mumbles. I can hear her shifting behind me. She's waking up.

"Bella?" Jacob asks, peering past me, completely oblivous to how close he is to death.

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK TO HER!"

Another moan comes from behind me. "Jake...?"

"I'm right here, Bells," he whispers back.

A flash of fire within me. I slam him even harder up against the wall. A picture falls down next to us. "SHUT UP MUTT! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

"Edward...?" Bella whispers, panic starting to filter into her voice. "Edward...ow..." The pain killers are wearing off.

"Are you alright, Bells?" Jacob asks.

"SHUT UP!"

"Ed-OW!"

I wince but don't lose my hold on Jacob; I don't turn to look in case he decides to make a run for it.

Jacob looks from Bella, to me, and back again, pain and surprise on his face. "Aren't you going to go to her?"

"Stop." I say through gritted teeth.

"Let me go." He tries to twist free from my grip. "She's hurting. Let me go to her."

"Edward..."

I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and try to fight down the anger - the fire. "Stop."

"LET ME GO, BLOODSUCKER!"

"NO!" I scream back.

"Edward...Jacob...stop."

Jacob's face shifts into a mask of rage and he shoves me away from him. "Get out of my way!"

Something snaps. The fire explodes in showers of scorching embers. My fist comes up and hits Jacob as hard I can in the face. Then something really does snap. Jacob wheels back, clutching his nose.

"Edward! STOP!" I turn just as Bella leans toward us, her arms waving - trying to break up our fight. She leans too far, and she topples out of bed; her lifeless legs being of no help to her balance. Before I can move to catch her, her body hits the hard floor, and she screams.

"Bella?" I am at her side in a milli-second, lifting her into my arms. She screams as I move her. "Bella? Are you okay?"

"Bells!" Jacob appears at my side, blood dripping from his newly-healed nose. "Is she okay?"

"I'm...fine..." she gasps, her face sweaty from exertion.

I lay her gently in bed, holding her face between my hands. Jacob hovers on the other side of the bed. I ignore him. "Bella? Is anything broken, love?"

She winces as I resituate her legs. "You mean, anything _more_?" she jokes, laughing softly. "No...I'm okay."

"How's your face?"

"It hurts...pretty bad."

"Do you want me to get some more pain meds for you?"

She nods numbly, biting her lip.

"I can get it," Jacob offers, moving for the door.

"No!" Bella and I say at the same time.

I glance at Bella, then glare at Jacob. "Leave. Now."

"No," Bella protests. "Jake...will you stay?"

"No," I say, just as Jacob says, "Yes."

Bella looks up at me, her eyes pleading and teary-eyed. "Please, Edward. I want to talk to him...please. He won't hurt me."

I want to say no. I want to say, "yes, he will hurt you, he already has." But I've already hurt her enough.

I shoot Jacob a glare as I exit the room in search of a nurse. "Touch her, and I'll rip your arms off," I mutter, knowing he'll hear, but Bella won't.

When I get back with the medicine, I walk in to find Jacob lying on the bed beside Bella. She's curled into his arms, tight against his chest. She shoots me a guilty look as I walk in.

"What are you doing?" I ask slowly, trying to remain calm.

Bella answers. "He's just keeping me warm, Edward. Really. I'm freezing!"

I frown, but when I look closer, her face is no longer flushed but a pale hue again. I sigh. "I hope you didn't jostle her," I say to Jacob.

He shakes his head at me. "I was really careful, trust me."

"I'm fine," Bella adds, then winces. "Except for my face...did you get the meds?"

I nod and move to hand them to her. "Here you go, love." I go to help her sit up, but Jacob beats me to it; supporting her back as she meticulously takes the pills through the small part of her mouth that is left unbandaged. When she's done, I reach out to take the cup. "There. That'll be better. Now go to sleep, you need rest." I turn to walk away; I'll wait outside until the dog leaves.

"Wait." I feel her frail, chilled hand grab my wrist. "Edward, stay."

I sigh and shake my head. "Bella, no..." I start to pull away. "I'll be right outside."

Her fingers tighten around my wrist; if I take another step I'll end up pulling her out of bed. "Please. Please stay."

"Fine." I turn and sit down beside her on the bed. Jacob and I exchange a glance.

"In that case...I'd better be getting back home..."

"NO!" Bella scrambles as Jacob starts to get up. She grabs his arm too, tugging on him. "Please! Please, Jake! Stay!"

I can see the deliberation on his face - go, and upset her, or stay, and have to deal with me. He lays back down. "Okay, Bells."

Bella smiles, curling back into his arms, then she reaches out and grabs my hand out of my lap and pulls it to her chest. She sighs, her eyelids drooping now, the pain killers working their magic. "Edward...?" she mumbles.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I love you."

Jacob stiffens.

I smile and lean forward to press my lips to her forehead. "I love you too."

A moment passes, and then... "Jake?"

He slowly melts, his muscles relaxing. "Yeah, Bells?"

"I love you."

I glance at his face, and I can see the confusion and shock on his face. _She's never said that to me before...not like this, _he thinks. Slowly, a smile lifts his lips.

"I love you too, Bells. You know that."

Bella smiles softly, her eyes almost closed. "Just making sure." Five minutes pass, and just when I think she's finally asleep, she mumbles my name again.

I laugh lightly. "Go to sleep, Bella. You can talk in the morning, when you're awake."

She mutters something along the lines of "I am awake" but I shush her. A moment later she mumbles Jacob's name.

"Ssh, Bells," he tells her. "Time to go to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning."

Her head nods infantesimally and then her eyes close.

For a long time - maybe hours - there is utter silence between Jacob and me; both of us just looking at Bella's face. Finally, Jacob breaks the silence.

"She's getting hot again," he tells me.

I nod, noticing the flush in her cheeks again. I touch her cheek and it's flaming hot. "I need to get her cooled down before her fever gets too high."

Jacob nods, and without even thinking, we trade places. I pull Bella into my arms and he takes her hand, stroking it gently with his thumb. After a while she starts to get too cold, and we switch again.

I look down at her, so peaceful, so happy despite her injuries, curled in Jacob's arms, and I remember how I reacted earlier. I remember how angry I was, how I blamed Jacob. I glance up at Jacob and sigh. "I'm very sorry." He glances up at me, frowning. "I'm sorry for blaming you. I shouldn't have done that." I look down at Bella's hand, safely cradled in mine. "I know it wasn't your fault she didn't wear her helmet, and I know it's not your fault that she crashed. But I also know that _this_ is your fault." I gesture along Bella's torn, broken, lifeless body. "It's your fault she's alive. Badly burned and paralyzed...but alive. You're the reason that I can hold her hand right now, and listen to her heart beating, and touch her cheek and feel warmth."

I look into his eyes again, and I know that there is a new understanding between us. I rest my hand against Bella's cheek, close my eyes, and smile. "Thank you, Jacob."

* * *

so, did you like? I just wanted to write about Jacob and Edward because they're both important to Bella, so they needed to make up.

review please!

-isabellthelooser


	8. Chapter 8: Fight

I know what you're thinking: "What the HECK! Two chapters in two days? this hasn't happened since...NEVER!" i know, I know...crazy, right. but I had a lot of inspiration tonight, and, afterall, it IS a short chapter. This one was inspired by The Mixed Tape by Jack's Mannequin. I've recently become obsessed with this band (recently meaning about 2 hours ago), and I have spent those 2 hours going on youtube and adding everything single song to my playlist (I actually created a whole new playlist just for this band) even if I don't like some of the songs. xD So I suggest you listen to them. :) I would definitely recommend either Dark Blue or Dear Jack (definitely this one). -Me gusta mucho!

anyways, back to the story. Please enjoy. I will hopefully have more of a story plot going on here in a while.

please review and fav and all that jazz.

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"_This is morning, that's when I spend the most time thinking 'bout what I've given up._

_This is a warning, when you start the day just to close the curtains, you're thinking 'bout what I've given up."_

_-The Mixed Tape, Jack's Mannequin-_

**Fight**

The moment I wake up, I'm tired. Somehow, sleep is more exhausting than being awake; just the process of opening my eyes uses my limited amount of energy. Every blink is a task, every word forced over my lips is painful, every breath costs more than it should. I wasn't sure before, but now I am absolutely certain.

This is what death feels like.

If only I really were dying, then this would be so much easier. I would know what to expect, I would be able to rest easy knowing that my destiny was decided, I wouldn't have to live in a body in which living is impossible.

They spend hours telling me what I can't do; telling me what will be hard, or near impossible. Eating, drinking, grabbing, talking, standing, walking. Then there is the one that is so much worse than the others. I can deal with having slurred speech; I can deal with drinking through a straw for the rest of my life. But this? I am to be denied the one thing that is most important? The one thing that every human being has a right to?

Feeling.

Nurses poke my arms, my legs, and my sides with needles, and I don't even notice. Edward plants a kiss on my cheek as I doze off to sleep; I only know because of his cool breath on my neck.

Jacob says goodbye and lets go of my hand for the first time in two days; I can't even feel the difference.

My heart aches as I watch his walk away from me; it aches because I want to follow him, to beg him to stay, but I can't. I'm a prisoner; just another inmate in this jail of a hospital. My body holds me captive.

Tears fall, but I can't feel them, just the ache behind my eyes.

Why can I feel the one thing I don't want to: pain.

There is no medicine that will heal this; no drug strong enough to dull the agony within me. It hurts so much.

It all hurts too much. My disabilities, Jacob, Edward, my heart.

I want to give in. So bad. I'm on the verge.

And then Edward takes my hand, and I imagine I can feel a cool reassurance in his invisible grip. He leans in close to me, so close that I can smell his honey sweet breath. He gazes into my eyes; he gazes into my eyes so intently, and he powers all his love, pain, and fear into those eyes. Those eyes that glisten a dark-caramel and water with unspillable tears. He gazes at me, and I close my eyes and imagine.

I imagine his hand around my waist, holding me up when I can't do it myself. I imagine his hand cradling mine; strong and tender, his fingers entwined with mine. I imagine his chest pressing down on me ever-so-slightly as he leans in to kiss me. And then I imagine his lips touching mine; opening and breathing life into my wilting body.

He gives me the energy - the willpower - I need to keep fighting. His eyes tell me that he knows I may not be strong enough, but he will help me. He will stand by me until the last moment; he will love me forever. And it's enough. It's enough to know that he's there, always, just a foot away, ready to catch me.

The truth is, sometimes you can't fight the battle yourself. Sometimes you need a knight in shiny armor, or maybe just someone to hold your hand through the turmoil. Sometimes you just need a little help.

The moment I wake up, I'm tired. Somehow, sleep is more exhausting than being awake; just the process of opening my eyes uses my limited amount of energy. Every blink is a task, every word forced over my lips is painful, but it's a little easier to breath.

* * *

once again, listen to Jack's Mannequin. and...REVIEW! :) I love reviews! They're like coffee (and Jack's Mannequin!) they inspire me, and inspiration equals longer/frequenter chapters. You like this muchly, I would suppose.

just on a side note: unspillable is not a word. I made it up for the purposes of my chapter. sorry...I'm just too lazy to figure out the correct way to say that he can't cry...

REVIEW please!

much love and thanks,

-isabellthelooser


	9. Chapter 9: All That Matters

just something short and sweet to fill the gap between inspirations.

please keep reading and reviewing. I love reading your comments and I always smile when I read them, even when they're negative or full of critism. :)

thanks for all the reviews, favs, alerts, and everything so far.

* * *

"_People are always telling me that change is good. But all that means is that something you didn't want to happen has happened."_

_-Meg Ryan-_

**All That Matters**

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me.

I don't look up from our entwined hands - his fingers long and pale, mine shaky and blistered. "When did things get so complicated?" I whisper. "Nothing seems normal anymore."

He shifts beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me tight against him. He presses his cool lips to my ear, a kiss and a whisper mixed into one tender moment. "What's complicated?" he asks. "I love you, you love me. Nothing's changed."

I look up into his warm brown eyes and see myself reflected there. I glance back down. "No, everything has."

"What has?" he asks impatiently.

"Me."

There's silence for a moment and then he moves again; he sits up and shifts so that he is leaning over me, our chests barely touching. He presses his forehead to mine, placing his hand against my undamaged cheek. "You're still Bella," he whispers. "Still soft." He turns his head slightly and kisses my cheek. "Still warm." He kisses my neck. "Still vulnerable." He leans forward and kisses my forehead. "Still Bella."

I smile half-heartedly. "I know…but…"

He shushes me, placing his forehead on mine again and gazing into my eyes. "Nothing's changed. I love you, you love me. That's all that matters, right?"

I nod.

He smiles his crooked smile and brushes my hair back from my face. "I love you, Bella."

"I love you too."

And as I'm falling asleep, he leans over once more and kissing my cheek. He whispers to me in the fading light. "Nothing's changed."

But as I close my eyes, ready for sleep to carry me away, I glance over at the window. I see myself there, reflected in the rain. I sigh, and a tear falls down my cheek. "No," I whisper to myself. "Everything's changed."


	10. Chapter 10: Beautiful

yay! another chapter and soooo soon! it just came to me, so I had to write it.

finally getting somewhere in the plot (yay again).

enjoy, keep reading, and please review!

* * *

_"Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."_

_-Confucius-_

**Beautiful**

He's leaving.

He's leaving me, and I can't bear it.

He's leaving me on the day that I will need him the most.

"I'll only be gone a day," he tells me.

I nod and try to look understanding, but inside my heart is ripping and tearing. _What about me? What if he doesn't come back? What is something happens and I need him?_ I swallow the questions along with the knot in my throat. "I know," I say. I try to sound convincing, but it doesn't work.

He leans over me, his hand touching my waist in that subtle way that he does; it makes my heart pitter-patter. That's how I know that I'm healing - slowly, maybe, but still healing - because my heart now has the strength to pitter-patter when he touches me.

He catches my chin with two fingers and lifts my face up to meet his gaze. "I'll be back tomorrow," he promises.

Again, I nod and try to understand. Once again, the tears threaten to leak over; he can see them.

"Bella," he sighs. He resettles himself on the bed beside me, taking my hand in his and holding them gently. "Sweetheart, you know why I have to, right?"

"Yes."

"You know that I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to."

"Yes."

"You know that I want to stay _so_ much…but I can't, right? You know I want to be here with you."

This time no words will come. I nod. His dark black eyes glimmer back at me with pain and indecision and thirst, most of all thirst. He hasn't eaten in so long; months, maybe. It's safe anymore.

"Bella," he whispers, his voice cracking ever so slightly. I look up in surprise and see the tears fighting to fall - invisible tears that can never fall. He takes my face between his hands, so gently that I can't even feel the pressure of his palms on my hurt cheek. "Bella, I wish that I could stay. God, if I could…"

"No," I whisper. I can see him giving in. I can see him post-poning his trip another week, another month because of me. How many nurses, doctors, and patients would I put in danger just to have him stay? How much danger would I put myself in? I close my eyes and force the words over my lips. "No, you have to go, Edward. You _have _to go."

Edward's eyes are sad, so sad that it nearly breaks my heart to see him this torn. He leans closer, laying his cheek against mine. "I don't have to go, Bella..."

"No, no you have to go." I reach out a shaking, weak hand and shove against his shoulder; he doesn't even appear to feel it. "Edward, you need to go." I can tell I'm not convincing enough though. I lean in close to him again and take his face in my hands; he closes his eyes. "Edward you _need_ to go. I'll be fine. Really," I add, when he looks at me doubtfully. "It's not that big of a deal, really. It'll only take a moment. And you'll be back the next day. 24 hours, we can do that, can't we?" I babbling; I close my mouth.

After a long moment, he finally sighs and opens his eyes - eyes that burn with a hunger. Slowly that hunger dies down and turns to pain. "I love you," he whispers.

I smile, try to smile at least. "I love you," I whisper back. And for a moment, I forget about my stupid, limp, useless body. I forget that half of my face in covered in gauze and tape. I forget that we're in a hospital, and I am the patient. All I can think is that he's leaving; that he's leaving, and I love him so much.

His lips are inches from mine, but he doesn't bridge the gap. _Why doesn't he bridge the gap? Why doesn't he just kiss me already?_ My whole stay in the hospital, he hasn't kissed me, at least not on the mouth. Always on my cheek or neck or forehead. Never a real kiss.

I want a real kiss.

I lean forward.

He shifts away from me and plants a kiss on my forehead. In a moment, he's standing, ready to leave. Edward looks down at me and smiles his crooked smile. "I'll be back in a day," he reminds me.

I nod, and gulp back the tears. "I know," I whisper. And then he's gone out the door.

I lay in bed for hours, just waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to walk through my door with a fake smile and a "Hello, how are you?". Waiting for a nurse to come in, smile her fake smile, and remove my bandages.

Today is the day. All of these layers and layers of gauze and cloth and tape; it's all coming off for good. My face should be healed.

Today is the day I see what's left of me.

A nurse named Kelly comes in around 5 pm. She smiles. "You ready?" she asks.

I nod and take a deep breath.

She moves my bed into an upright position and then comes over to my blind side to unwrap the bandages. I can sense her near me, and I can feel the slight tug as the first bit of tape is taken off. "Here we go," she says cheerfully. She can afford to be cheery. This is just another day on the job to her; another patient who's medical bills will pay her wages. It doesn't matter to her what's underneath.

As the bandages begin to turn slack, a pang shoots through my heart. I want Edward here. I want him here so bad. I need him to hold my hand. I need someone to be here with me who cares.

Just as I'm thinking this, a cool hand takes mine from where it lay limp on the bed. "How's it going, Bella?" Alice's musical voice asks me.

I look up, and there she is just two feet away, smiling. An angel. "Alice!" I exclaim. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs. "I figured you might need someone to be here with you, and I had nothing to do." She smiles again, then leans over the bed to watch what the nurse is doing. "Almost there, Bella," she says excitedly.

"Just one last layer," the nurse adds.

I close my eyes and clasp Alice's hand as tight as I can manage. I feel the cloth leave my face; the back of my eyelid turns red like the other one as it is finally released from its dark prison. Cool air hits my bare skin and it feels odd and wonderful at the same time.

"How does it look?" I ask excitedly.

I hear a gasp.

"Um..." Alice starts, but she trails off.

"What?" I open my eyes, but of course I can't see anything. "What is it?"

"Oh my god..." the nurse whispers; I can just barely hear her.

"It's nothing, Bella," Alice says a moment after, answering my question.

"They said it was going to be...oh my _god..._" the nurse continues.

Panic starts to set in. "What is it?" I ask, panic clear in my voice. I glance from Alice to the nurse; the nurse's face is curled up in a look of disgust and disbelief. "Is it that bad?" I ask.

"N-no, Bella, she's just...shocked, is all." Alice lets go of my hand and a moment later she's usherly the nurse out the door.

Slowly, I reach up and feel my cheek. I can't feel anything. "Alice," I whisper, slowly, trying to remain calm. "I need a mirror."

"Bella, it's okay. It looks...fine."

"Alice, I need a mirror."

"You're beautiful, really, Bella." She's lying.

"Alice, get me a mirror!"

My anger stops her mid-sentence and she bites her lip. "Bella-"

"NOW!"

Slowly, she nods her head and disappears in the bathroom. A moment later she's back with a hand-held mirror. "Bella, just...before you look, remember...remember that Edward loves you. Remember that we all think you're beautiful. You _are_ beautiful. Okay?"

I nod, my mouth a rigid line. "Give me the mirror, please, Alice."

She hesitates.

"Alice, I think I deserve to see what I look like."

"Okay..." she hands me the mirror.

It feels heavy - the mirror in my hand - as if it holds all the weight of this moment as well as it's own material weight. Slowly, and very deliberately, I turn the mirror around to face me.

* * *

sorry for the cliff-hanger...I know, so terrible. but I promise the next chapter will be up very VERY soon. :)

don't kill me in the mean-time.

please, please, please review.

thanks for everything.

-isabellthelooser


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